


Grand Romance

by Thimblerig



Series: Misery Theatre [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Minor AU - Canon Divergence, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, There is no happy here, discussion of suicide, fucked up love songs, the one where Marguerite had a scrap more spine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thimblerig/pseuds/Thimblerig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marguerite and Aramis find honesty as painful as deceit.</p><p>(Slight AU of 2.10, Trial and Punishment)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grand Romance

For the longest time Marguerite lies still where they dropped her. The deep lassitude in her limbs is almost pleasant, and the chill of the cell's floor, of the chains, soothing. She cannot see past the swags and tangles of her disordered hair, but she hears the diffident click of rosary beads and whispered prayers to the queen of heaven. For the longest time she dreams.

(click) _Once upon a time there was a lady of high degree who knew not love, and she met a questing knight..._

(click) _A girl stood like a little rose-tree, when you touched her, her dress rustled..._

(click) _There was a time when a poor grey dove tried to live in a house of song-birds. And a bright and wicked kingfisher came and said, 'I'll teach you how to fly'..._

She swallows a sob; the clicking stops. 

"How long had Rochefort been blackmailing you?"

"The cross," she croaks. She swallows painfully and adds, "I was the one who took it."

"Ah." Aramis' voice is husky, and a little high. Strained. "Are you injured?" She shakes her head and scrapes hair away from her face. He sits leaning against a wall, legs crooked up, one manacled wrist resting on the ground, the other balanced on his knees. He looks down at the beads he is telling.

"I thank you, for your testimony."

"Too little, too late," she answers, staring at nothing.

"That would make an excellent text for a sermon, if I'd had the wit to con it."

But a lack of forwardness has never been Aramis' character flaw.

(click) _A girl liked a boy and offered him everything. And for a time she felt so sweetly cherished..._

She reaches out to him. "Did you ever l- did you ever _want_ to bed me?"

He draws his hand away and swallows. "I thought - inasmuch as any thought crossed my mind - that if I showed you a... good time it would be... something."

"Aramis the working girl." She smiles crookedly. A shudder ripples across his shoulders. 

"I will not ask for your forgiveness."

 _Of course you won't,_ she thinks bitterly.

"Do you hate me?"

"Yes," she replies. 

He nods.

(click) _Once upon a time there was a lady of the court, beautiful and gracious, but modest also. She could have had lovers, two or three, but _oh_ , the one who came calling..._

(click) _In the most beautiful city in the world a lady dwelt. And all her life and love were nothing but a smokescreen for the affairs of the great._

_"Ave Maria, plena gratia -"_

"How much cozening will Mary need for you to get into Heaven, do you think?"

He shakes his head. "For the queen, and her son. You." He leans towards her, but she twitches away, jangling her chains.

(click) _Once there was a woman as lovely and useful as a chair set in a corridor._

"Will it... hurt?"

"Yes."

She closes her eyes.

"I will do what I can for you, when they take us to the Yard. If you stay close to me."

And Marguerite is _done_ with his mercy. She rolls over and stares at the wall.

_Once upon a time a beautiful maiden was enthralled by an evil magician. And she could have been braver..._

"Remember my name," she whispers.

A breath of air puffs from him. "Until the end of my days."

She sleeps again.

MMM

She ignores the intrusive click of the lock and the door's squeak. Then someone kicks her in the foot and a woman drawls, "Up you get, poppet, we're going for a walk." 

It is, of all things, the king's ex-mistress, leaning over her with a disdainful smirk and working at the iron around her wrists. Marguerite doesn't move. Madame de Winter raises one night-black eyebrow. "I care not a scrap if you rot here."

"You could be kinder," says Aramis, gathering her into his arms and lifting. 

"Pick a side," the woman says. "Villain or victim. Enough of this _dithering_."

Marguerite tucks her nose into the crook of the musketeer's neck as they travel down the prison corridor. She smells familiar leather and gunpowder, the spice that is always with him, and sweat, and the rancid tang of fear. Once she would have given a great deal to be cradled in his arms like this. But _wanting_ things has not worked out well for her recently. Or at all. She sees a flicker of red, as a guardsman walks unexpectedly from a cross-passage behind them.

_A woman and a man hated, desired, betrayed, and rescued each other. And they had many adventures..._

No.

_Once upon a time there was a woman named Marguerite, and she was unloved._

_fini_

**Author's Note:**

> I had to work through some feelings about why I disliked Marguerite so much. This fic is part of that work.
> 
> It's not that I don't empathise. Empathy is part of the problem. That... place she's in during the late series, scared, lonely, desperate, beset by forces out of her control and - worse - knowing that there are some Right Things To Do and just... not being able to pick herself up off the floor and do them? I've been there and the reminder of it wasn't fun. So there's that.
> 
> There was a general theme in Season 2 of people buckling under emotional stress. (Dear Lord, Louis.) Several of them crawled their way back to coping - Athos came back to Pinon, Treville came clean to Porthos, Aramis at least _tried_ to get his head together after the fubar in the market, to break off that problematic relationship. (Porthos behaved with grace and aplomb in very trying circumstances; clearly they all should follow his advice.) Marguerite, when she did make decisions, made them a little bit spiteful, a little bit late - just enough to screw people over. Hey, you know when that confession would have been useful? At the trial. A friendly/competent person is talking about you getting hurt: maybe you should mention the blackmail...?
> 
> And, the nature of their romantic relationship, where one person is deceived and the other - due to outside forces - is unable to freely walk away? All the mess and hurting tangled up in there pushes a few more buttons for me.
> 
> So, yeah, Aramis with his issues _screwed her over plenty._ There were outright villains throwing down. I understand why she broke. I didn't want her to.
> 
> She wasn't kind. 
> 
> I wanted her to be _better_.
> 
> tldr: If you love Marguerite, come tell me why in the comments: I don't like how I feel about her.
> 
> Other notes:
> 
>  _A girl stood like a little rose-tree_ \- paraphrase of "Stetit Puella" from the Carmina Burana, a collection of Latin songs and poems (set to music by Carl Orff, by the by.) Text here: (http://www.tylatin.org/extras/cb17.html) "A girl stood in a red dress; if anyone touched it, the dress rustled. Eia! A girl stood like a little rose; her face shone and her mouth bloomed. Eia!" (Just to twist the knife, there's a longer version where Venus says something like "May the one you cleave to love you and never leave you."
> 
>  _"Pick a side. Villain or victim. Enough of this dithering."_ \- Pot/kettle, much?
> 
> I leave it to the reader to decide what Marguerite does next, and who gets out of the prison alive.
> 
> Since I need some happy, here's a link to the rose song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YjI1EVgX0Cw


End file.
